


I'm Crawling on Your Shore

by smithereen



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-24 11:21:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithereen/pseuds/smithereen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not trying to be anybody's dad here. (Set after the season 2 finale. Slightly AU.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Crawling on Your Shore

It's a little after 5am, and Alaric's expecting the soft creak of the door opening. His hand still goes to the gun he has tucked under his pillow. "Hey," he says softly into the dark. Elena flinches, freezing near the door. He clicks on the lamp and slips the gun into his waistband, the cold metal a familiar shock against the small of his back. She's got this sheepish look on her face, almost like she's a normal teenager who just got caught sneaking in after curfew. Not that he's about to ground her or anything. Not that any of this is normal.

"Hey." She jingles her keys in her hand. They haven't really talked about the fact that he spends more time at the Gilbert place than she does these days. He knows she and Damon are looking for a way to track Klaus, break through some witchy interference on his end. He knows she doesn't come home until dawn, that she hasn't once since Stefan left. Most days he keeps his eyes closed when she comes in, pretends he's not a light sleeper. He figures as long as she's still showing up to school, as long as she's showing up without any bite marks on her neck, it's none of his business. He's not trying to be anybody's dad here. He's just- He's just trying to be here.

He sits up, the heel of his hand scrubbing against his eye. He's a little hungover, but not too bad. Just enough to remind him how much bourbon it took to put him to sleep last night.

"You know you could- You can have Jenna's room if you…" She trails off miserably.

He takes a breath, looks down at his feet. It's not like the couch is great for his back, but- He shakes his head. He thinks he should probably say something like, "I'll be out of your hair in a couple days." Should make it clear that he knows this is temporary. He thinks about the dark stains on the hardwood back at his apartment. The blood stains. They wouldn't come out. "I'm okay here." He pats the couch, and flashes her a little smile. "Not like I'm sleeping much anyway."

"Yeah," she says. "I know the feeling."

He takes a closer look at her. She looks pretty rough, about as rough as he feels. "You holding up?" he says.

He doesn't expect a real answer out of her, and he doesn't get one. "I'm good," she says, her voice determinedly cheerful. "How's Jeremy?"

Jeremy is- Distracted. Sometimes Alaric hears him talking up in his room. He clams up though, when Alaric tries to poke around. When he tries to see if maybe Jeremy wants to talk to someone besides himself. But for a guy who just lost another member of his family, for a guy who _died_ , he seems like he's doing pretty okay. If he's a little weird right now, Alaric figures he's earned it. "He'll get through it," he says.

He doesn't say, "You should be here," even though Elena looks braced for it, like maybe she's expecting him to. She doesn't ask him about the half-empty bottle of Jim Beam on the table. He finishes folding the blanket he took from the hall closet, puts it neatly on top of the pillow he borrowed from Elena's bed because he couldn't- Jenna's pillows still smelled like her, and he couldn't.

"You want breakfast?" he says instead. Scrambled eggs he can handle.

*

School has always been this thing Elena could count on, not really a _fun_ thing but a _normal_ thing. A reminder that everything in the world isn't monsters and death. A reminder that people grow up, and have lives, have futures. That maybe she could be one of those people. It's not like she really thinks knowing how to find the hypotenuse of a triangle is going to come in handy. It's not like going to school is really _useful_. Not the way Bonnie's spell books are useful, the way Jeremy's ring is useful. But every day she doesn't go it's like admitting that she's never going to need a high school diploma. And every day she _does_ it's like telling herself, "You're going to make it out of here." (Alive.)

Lately though, she thinks about skipping. She watches the clock, and thinks that's another minute, hour, day farther away. That's another hundred, two hundred, three hundred miles. That's another chance Klaus will get bored with his new toy. That's another person killed that Stefan will never forgive himself for when he remembers who he is.

"Ugh," Caroline groans, flopping down into the seat in front of Elena. "This trig final is going to kill me. Then after I bomb it, my mom is going to kill me again."

And it's nice that Caroline can joke about that when a few weeks ago her mom was actually planning to kill her. Caroline's been through a lot this year. It's not like she doesn't deserve to be happy, finally. But Elena can't help the sharp twist of something sort of ugly in her gut, something angry and a little jealous. It makes her feel like a really shitty friend so she smiles at the joke, and she pretends she cares at all about whether she bombs her final too.

But she doesn't really. Not even a little.

She looks at Stefan's empty chair on the other side of the classroom, and she thinks about not coming in to school tomorrow.

*

They had a funeral for John. It feels like a luxury that the way he died can so easily be passed off as natural causes. To be able to admit out loud that he's dead. To have people say things like "Isn't it a tragedy" and "He was so young." It feels like a luxury to put up a gravestone when Jenna's body was buried in the middle of the night like an ugly secret.

Alaric is good at keeping secrets. It's something he learned after Isobel, just like he learned how to fire a crossbow, how to take a punch. The stakes he wears on his wrists used to feel strange, like he was strapping on a Vampire Hunter costume every morning. Lying used to feel like that too. Like something he had to work at. Now putting the stakes on feels like putting on a watch, and he smiles easily when he tells Jenna's friends she's out of town. His voice is casual, friendly as he tells them she needed to work on her thesis with no distractions, no Internet, no phone. He doesn't need to hypnotize anyone with his eyes to sell a lie. They swallow it right down. They smile at him like he's a good person, like Jenna's lucky she found someone like him.

It feels like shit.

He's pretty used to not letting that show on his face. He orders another drink.

*

Elena falls asleep in the middle of her history final. Well, closer to the end than the middle. She only has a couple of the essay questions left to go, but her head is pounding and the questions on the test are kind of blurry when she looks at them. She closes her eyes just for a second, and then she's jerking awake with a hand on her shoulder.

Ric squats beside her desk. She looks at him sideways, her head still pillowed on her arm. He's got that worried teacher look on his face. The "Is everything okay at home?" look. It's kind of funny considering. "Do you need to go to the nurse?" he says quietly. If she were anybody else falling asleep in his class he'd have woken her up by dropping a book on the desk beside her head. But his hand is gentle on her shoulder when he says, "If you're sick you can make up the exam after school tomorrow." He's offering her an out in case she really screwed up on the test. Which is- Nice. And also feels a little bit like cheating, so it's probably not something he should be doing just because- Because of Jenna. Because he knows Elena was almost sacrificed for some stupid not even really a moon curse or whatever. Because he feels sorry for her. Anyway, she doesn't need an out. She's totally fine. She only has like, one and a half of the essay questions to go. "Elena?" he says.

She sits up, trying to check her hair without him noticing. "Yeah," she says, still feeling a little disoriented. "Sorry, I-" She glances at the clock. She still has plenty of time. "I'm okay. I just-" She doesn't finish, and he keeps looking at her like he's not really convinced. "I just fell asleep," she finally says lamely, even though _duh_. "This is a really boring test," she adds in a whisper, flashing him a tiny grin. His eyebrow rises, but he smiles a little. He stops looking so worried. "I'm really okay, Ric." She hesitates on his name, accidentally dragging it out so it sounds even more obvious and weird. It shouldn't be so weird. He told the whole class they could use it; it's not her fault no one else really does. She frowns at her pencil. "I'm okay," she says firmly. He squeezes her shoulder as he stands back up.

*

Alaric used to be the kind of guy who thought about the future. Not in an obsessive, ambitious way; just in a sort of ridiculously _optimistic_ way. He pictured himself growing old behind a teacher's desk. Coming home from school to his beautiful, smart as hell wife. Having kids one day, probably. Used to be the future was something he was really looking forward to.

When he'd thought Isobel was dead, it was like the future stopped existing. He never thought about what his life would be after he found Damon, after he killed him. He planned relentlessly for the moment when he'd force the stake home, but he never thought about what would happen after.

When he found out what Isobel really was, it was like the past stopped existing too. Every memory suddenly had a question mark drawn after it. Was she already lying to him that day they'd driven to Savannah to interview some subjects for her research? He remembers the two of them in a shitty motel, her skin slick against him, her laughter low in her throat. He remembers thinking they were so happy while he helped her track down the vampires she was going to use to leave him. He remembers moving in with her a couple months later, and he wonders if she already knew then. While they were unpacking boxes, and talking about changing the curtains, and how they needed to fix the sink in the bathroom. She sat there, and argued with him about whether they should order extra eggrolls, and smiled at him like she loved him; and all he can think now is that she was just biding her time.

He wonders sometimes what his life would be if he hadn't met her. If he hadn't loved her so much, too much to let her go. If he'd grieved for her and moved on like normal people do. Or if he'd managed to stake Damon like he planned. On the one hand, Damon is basically the closest thing he has to a friend these days. And yes, he's intensely aware of how fucked up and pathetic that is. On the other hand, if Damon were dead he probably wouldn't be currently making it impossible for Alaric to drink himself to sleep in peace.

"Drinking alone?" Damon says. "Tsk. Tsk." He clicks on a lamp, and Ric squints a little into the light. Damon takes the bottle from the table, pulls a deep swig from it. He drops down on the couch next to Alaric and hands the bottle back. "There. Isn't that better? The two of us drinking socially like people who aren't degenerate alcoholics do."

"Where's Elena?" Alaric asks blearily. He's drunk, but he's still got a ways to go before he hits drunk enough.

"What, my company not good enough for you?"

"Come on," Alaric says, a bit more belligerently than he meant to. "She's been your shadow."

"Look at you, so concerned." Damon cocks his head and studies Alaric with a raised eyebrow. "Are you worried I buried her in the back yard?"

Alaric rolls his eyes. "Just answer the question."

"She passed out in a pile of books." He shrugs one shoulder and takes the bottle from Alaric's hands. "She needed the sleep."

"Is she okay?" Alaric says. He kind of wants to take it back as soon as it's out. Just because this is Damon, and it's pretty much never a good idea to let your guard down around Damon. But it's not like he ever gets an honest answer out of Elena, and Damon's the only one in a position to know. "I mean, _really_ okay," he adds.

Damon smiles. It looks a little mocking. "The dad thing looks good on you," he says.

"I'm not her dad," Alaric mutters.

Damon's smile twists, gets a lot more mocking. He looks at Alaric like he can see every ugly thing hidden in the darkest, secret places inside him; and he finds it all very amusing. Alaric resists the urge to look away, like that would be admitting to something.

"She's a mess," Damon says finally. "I'm not really in a place to criticize." He tips the bottle in Alaric's direction. "And you, Mr. Saltzman, are not much better. But you'll have to do."

"Do what?" Alaric says. He may be a little drunker than he thought. This conversation is starting to feel like it's going sideways.

"You'll keep an eye on her," Damon says, oddly intent. He says it halfway like a question, and halfway like he's giving an order. Like he's not used to having to ask for things without the force of compulsion behind his eyes. "You'll be here when she needs you."

It's kind of weird that he doesn't say _if_ she needs you. Alaric's brow wrinkles up. "Not that I think either of them _need_ me," he says, even though Damon didn't really mention Jeremy. "But I'm- I'm just trying to be someone they can count on not to go around tearing out any throats or bursting into flame."

Damon crooks an arm over Alaric's shoulders. He taps the bottle into the middle of Alaric's chest. "That's all anyone can really ask."

*

Elena finds Damon in the Salvatore library with Bonnie after school, the two of them standing close with their heads bent over one of the spell books. They look up when she comes in. Bonnie flips the book shut with a heavy thud.

"Find anything?" Elena asks.

"Not a thing." Damon smiles at her over the rim of his scotch glass. Bonnie shakes her head no, shrugging her shoulders. Elena wonders how stupid they think she is.

Damon takes the book with him when the two of them go to "order Chinese" which seems to be code for "whisper more about our lies in the other room." Damon comes back alone a little while later without the book.

"What was in it?" Elena says flatly.

"In what?" he says, all innocence.

"Do you guys think you're being subtle? Because you're really not."

"I have no idea what you mean." He grabs a book off the shelf and shoves it at her. "I don't think we've looked at this one."

She pushes it back at him. "You're not going after him alone." She grabs his arm, keeps him from turning back to the shelf. "Promise me."

"No one's going after him," Damon says. "Not until the useless witch figures out how her powers work."

"Damon," she says insistently. Her hand tightens on his arm.

"Hey," he says, his voice going serious. "We're in this together." He touches her cheek lightly with his cold fingers. He looks at her with his big blue eyes. Looks at her earnestly. "You know that."

In the morning, he's gone.

*

When Elena doesn't come home before school, Alaric gets a little worried. Just a _little_ worried because he knows she doesn't need a baby-sitter. Just a little worried until he asks Caroline and Jeremy about it, and neither of them have heard anything from her. Until she doesn't show up for his class. He ditches out during his planning period, heads over to the Salvatore place more than just a little worried. He finds her smashing things in Damon's room. She's sloppy drunk, and there are tear streaks on her face but she just sounds angry when she says, "He left without me."

And Alaric knows, he remembers how it felt to be locked inside that house while Jenna was dying. How it still feels to know he didn't do anything to save her, hadn't even been allowed to _try_. Elena has a right to her anger, but he can't quite bring himself to be sorry she's here where it's safe. (Safer.)

"He was trying to protect you," he offers. She glares at him. He hands her something old and expensive-looking from Damon's dresser, a snuff box, and watches her smash it against the wall.

"I don't have to be protected from Klaus," she says bitterly. "He doesn't need me anymore."

Alaric doesn't remember much from when Klaus took his body. It wasn't like he was watching from the backseat while Klaus was driving. Mostly it was like he was just gone, just nowhere. And then he was back with a big blank spot in his memory where Klaus used to be. But there's something… Like coming home when someone's been in your house, and everything feels just the tiniest bit out of place. He thinks sometimes he can feel a faint echo of Klaus, like fingerprint smudges on his insides. There's a little bit of what Klaus felt for Elena in it. That little bit of how he wanted her is enough.

He thinks if he'd been in Damon's place he'd have done the same. He doesn't want her anywhere near Klaus either.

*

Elena wakes up in Stefan's bed with a pounding headache. Her mouth feels painfully dry, her throat raw. She remembers throwing up kind of a lot. She looks over groggily, and Ric's lying on the other side of the bed. He has one hand spread across his stomach, and his chin is rough with stubble. He still has his shoes on. He's frowning in his sleep. She vaguely remembers that he was there during all the throwing up. A squiggle of horrified embarrassment twists in her gut. She climbs gingerly out of bed and pads over to the bathroom. She scrubs at her teeth like she can scrub yesterday away completely.

She thinks about going home, getting ready for school. She has an English final today. She crawls back into the bed instead.

She wakes up again when she hears Ric calling in sick. His cell phone clatters down onto the floor. She doesn't tell him she's awake. He rolls over onto his stomach after a while. She can feel the heat of his arm where it's almost touching her elbow.

*

Alaric wakes up to the rattle of his phone vibrating. He has no idea where he is. He turns his head, and for one deeply disorienting moment thinks he's looking at Isobel on the other side of the bed. Her dark hair spread out on the pillow, her head turned away from him. It's just a moment, just the span of one hard, startled heartbeat before he remembers Isobel burned away to nothing.

 _Elena_ , he realizes. He remembers deciding to stay with her, just in case she tried to do anything stupid. He remembers sweeping up a lot of glass. He checks his watch distractedly.

"Christ," he says. He'd been out like a light. He can't remember the last time he slept like that without literally passing out. He gropes around on the floor for his phone. It's already gone to voicemail by the time he finds it. He looks at the caller ID.

Jeremy.

He should call him back. He glances over at Elena. She's still asleep, her shirt rucked up around her waist, a little slice of her bare back showing. Her shoulder rises with her breath. He thinks about cupping the nape of her neck in his hand, shaking her awake. He watches her take another breath before he inches off the bed slowly, quietly.

He waits until he's out in the hall to make the call. He leaves the door open just a crack so he'll be sure to hear if Elena says anything. He can still see the bare curve of her leg sticking out from under the twisted sheets. The dirty sole of her foot.

He feels vaguely guilty hearing the controlled fear in Jeremy's voice. He promises to be home soon. He promises to bring Elena with him.

*

There's someone in the shower. Elena listens to the water running for a while, trying to get the energy to open her eyes. She feels drained, like she still needs more sleep or like maybe she got too much. She shifts, rolling over onto her back.

The bathroom door opens. Her eyes slit open. Ric hesitates in the doorway. His hand comes up reflexively in front of his bare chest, one of Stefan's shirts clutched in his fist.

"Hey," he says sheepishly.

"Hey." Her voice sounds a little hoarse.

"Thought you were still asleep."

"What time is it?" She yawns, her jaw creaking.

"Late," he says. "I didn't want to wake you." He looks at her carefully. "How do you feel?"

She's scared, and she's pissed off, and she's tired, and she's _sad_ ; but mostly for right now she's pissed off because tired and sad and scared don't get you anywhere. She feels like she's about three seconds from freaking the fuck out, from screaming at the top of her lungs until her voice just goes. Feels like that all the time, except for when she's more like two seconds away, or one. But that's nothing new.

"I'm fine," she says. "My head hurts a little." She touches the corner of her mouth self-consciously, rubs at the mascara flakes in the corners of her eyes with her thumb. She tries not to think about last night. She tries not to notice that there's a drop of water dripping down his collarbone. She doesn’t know why she feels kind of blushy looking at him. She used to catch him half-dressed down in the kitchen sometimes when he and Jenna were dating. It was just her aunt's boyfriend in his boxers. It was never a thing.

He pulls Stefan's shirt on abruptly, his shoulders flexing. "You should try to drink some water. Helps with the hangover. And aspirin." He glances back at the bathroom. "I don't suppose vampires stock aspirin?"

She wrinkles up her nose and shakes her head.

He rustles around in his pocket and comes up with a couple pills. He clears his throat, looks embarrassed when he hands them over. "Jeremy called," he says. "He's fine," he adds before she has time to ask. "I thought maybe we could all get a pizza or something."

She's halfway to saying "I should really…" before she remembers that Damon's gone. Stefan's gone. She thinks about locking herself up in the library with the books, trying to find something on her own when even if she did Bonnie's already made it clear she won't help her. Thinks about sleeping here in Stefan's bed tonight. Alone in this big, dark house.

She swallows two aspirin dry with a wince. "Okay," she says. "But I'm not eating that gross BBQ chicken thing Jeremy likes."

"Sausage and mushrooms?" he says. Her favorite. Jenna had forced all four of them to do pizza and movie nights a couple times back before things started getting really crazy. It feels like that was a long time ago. She'd been so nervous about how Elena and Jeremy would react to her dating their teacher. Jenna was always worried about completely the wrong things. Not that it was her fault. They'd all been working pretty hard to keep her from knowing what she really had to be worried about.

"Extra cheesy bread?" Elena says.

He smiles at her like he's surprised she remembered.

*

Alaric's got the TV on mute, but he's staring at it because it's less weird if someone walks in on you watching a muted TV than if they catch you staring blankly into space. He pours himself another drink. He hears movement by the stairs. His hand is on his gun before he has a chance to think. He eases back, his shoulders still tense when he sees Elena hovering in the doorway.

"Can't sleep?" he says.

She shakes her head. She sits down next to him on the couch, tucks her feet up. "You either?"

He grabs the bottle off the table and hides it off on the side of couch. Not that it's much of a secret that he's a fucking- That he's a mess. But he doesn't want her to see it this close up.

She blushes. "You don't have to-" she says. "I'm not really a big drinker. That thing yesterday, that was just-" She shrugs a little, not meeting his eyes. "It was a one-time thing."

"No, I-" It makes it worse somehow, that she's sitting there thinking she has anything to be embarrassed about. That she's sitting there thinking he was trying to protect her. "I know."

"Thanks for not giving me the whole drinking is bad lecture or whatever."

"Sure," he says, like the thought of giving her a lecture about it had even crossed his mind. Like he's a good teacher or a responsible adult or whatever she thinks he is. Like he could get through something like that without crumbling in on his own hypocrisy. Christ.

"What are you watching?" she says, giving him an amused look. He realizes it's some kind of infomercial about a Hard Buns workout or something horrifying. He laughs and hands her the remote. She turns the volume back on, but just a low murmur so they don't wake up Jeremy. She clicks through a few channels. They watch CNN for a while. Turns out everything's pretty much bad all over. She switches to some movie on Comedy Central. She relaxes a little in her seat, like she only had it on CNN before because she thought she had to watch something educational if he was in the room. He watches her out of the corner of his eye. She doesn't really laugh at the funny parts, not that the funny parts of this movie are really _funny_ in an objective sense.

He tries not to look at the glass of bourbon on the table. It's just a splash of alcohol, a couple swallows. He feels like he's sweating with the effort of not reaching for it.

*

Elena wakes up on the couch. Her eyes are scratchy. Her arm is asleep. She feels sweaty, too hot. It takes her a second to figure out that she's tucked in against Ric's chest. He's sitting straight up, his head tipped back on the couch, his neck stretching, his mouth open. It looks uncomfortable.

He has his arm around her waist.

He's still wearing Stefan's t-shirt. She rubs her cheek against the familiar material, worn soft. His body feels so hot underneath the fabric, fever hot. Not like Stefan. She can hear his heart beating.

Ric's arm tightens around her waist, his fingers pressing. His eyes slit open, his whole body going tense against her for a second. He relaxes slowly, like it doesn't come easily. He unwinds his arm. "Sorry," he says. He moves like his neck is stiff.

She shrugs it off. She's not sure exactly what he's apologizing for. She's the one who butted in on him in the middle of the night. She's the one who fell asleep on him. She should probably be the one apologizing, but it seems like talking about it would make it weirder that she was kind of… Snuggling him or whatever.

He rubs his hand through his hair, ruffling it so it sticks up in the front. He looks confused. It's kind of cute. "I don’t have a headache," he says. He sounds about as disoriented as he looks.

She raises an eyebrow. "Good?"

He smiles slowly. "Good," he confirms. "Different." He catches her eyes, and then shakes his head. "Never mind," he says. "Coffee?"

"Coffee," she agrees. She offers him a hand, tugs him up off the couch.

*

He tries not to get too used to it, to the sound of her soft footsteps on the stairs. To the way she curls herself around one of the cushions on the other side of couch. To the way her foot taps against his thigh sometimes when she stretches out. The way her hair tickles his neck when she puts her head down on his shoulder. He doesn't bring down extra pillows or blankets. He doesn't offer to switch beds if she'd be more comfortable on the couch for now. He just flips the TV on, and sits there not really watching it. Telling himself he's not expecting her.

They don't talk much. Mostly they just let the TV fill the silence. Mostly he just pretends he's not waiting for her to scoot over closer, for her to lean into him, her body soft against his arm. He's careful never to make the first move. Careful to settle his arm on the back of the couch behind her instead of draping it over her shoulder.

He waits until he's sure she's asleep before he turns the TV off. He runs his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of her neck, sets his hand gently against the curve of her head for just a moment. Closing his eyes.

He falls asleep like he's eager for it, falls hard and deep. Sleeps like he hasn't slept since Isobel. Like there's nothing to be afraid of behind his closed eyes, nothing in the dark. He tries not to admit to himself that he's going to wake up with his legs tangled in hers, her body hot against his chest, his hands carelessly on the curve of her waist, clutching at her skin. Tries not to admit that waking up with her is becoming a habit.

He hasn't had a drink in four days.

*

She doesn't really ask Ric if it's all right for her to start eating lunch in his classroom. She just kind of brings her lunch and sits down at one of the desks like that's something she's done before. He looks up from the bag of peanuts he's eating, the stack of papers he's grading.

"Everything okay?" he says. He asks her that kind of thing a lot.

"Sure," she says. He raises an eyebrow at her like letting her know he doesn't buy it, but she really doesn't want to start whining to him about how she can't be around Bonnie when she's this angry at her all the time. How she can't stand to play third wheel to Caroline and Tyler's whole whatever they have going. How she feels like she's going crazy because every time her phone rings, she gets this painful little jolt of hope. Even though she knows, she _knows_ it's not Stefan. It's not Damon. She knows, but she can't seem to figure out how to stop thinking… _Maybe_. God, how is she supposed to spend an entire summer here, waiting for her phone to ring?

Ric doesn't push. She likes that about him. She likes that when they talk, they talk about dumb stuff like how horrible those people on the Jersey Shore are, or whether WWII could have been prevented if someone went back in time and killed Hitler, or if they should get a new coffeemaker for the house, if they should try to cook something or just order out again. They don't talk about real things. It's kind of nice.

She gets up and puts her fries on his desk. "You should really try to eat more healthy."

"These are French fries," he says, half amused, half incredulous.

"You're eating peanuts."

"Peanuts have protein," he says. "They don't have the…" He waves his hand vaguely. "The transfat and all that- The stuff with the cholesterol. You know…"

"They don't count as a meal," she says. "You have to eat something that's been cooked for it to count as a meal."

"What about salads?" he says, smirking like he thinks he has her there. "What about sushi?"

She raises her chin in his direction. "Just eat the French fries."

He shrugs and drags one of the fries through ketchup. "Look at me," he says, still kind of smiling. "The health food fanatic."

When she comes back the next day she brings him a burger.

*

Alaric jerks, looks into Jeremy's startled face. His hand is outstretched like he was about to touch Alaric's shoulder, shake him awake.

"What's wrong?" Alaric says, immediately on his guard. Elena stirs against his chest, a muffled sound in the back of her throat.

"Nothing, I-" Jeremy stutters. Jeremy is looking at the two of them sprawled out longways on the couch. It's funny how profoundly aware Alaric suddenly is of how this looks. It's not a very big couch. Elena has one knee pulled up, bent over Alaric's leg. Her face is buried in the curve of his neck. He can feel her breath tickle against his skin. Jeremy looks at Alaric's hand where it's resting on her bare thigh. At her fingers tucked under the hem of Alaric's t-shirt.

Alaric gently extracts his hand. He can't sit without pulling Elena up with him. Without touching her. He's painfully conscious of the fact that he's hard. He kind of wants to die.

Elena stirs again. She blinks awake, sitting up jerkily when she sees Jeremy. "What's wrong?" she says.

"Nothing," Jeremy says again. "Nothing, it's just- It's getting late. We've got school." He shrugs, looking uncomfortable, looking confused. But not like he's about to call the school board and tell them Alaric's a pervert. So that's something.

He should stop this. He should put a stop to it right now.

But when she shows up again that night, he doesn't say anything. He doesn't turn her away. He pretends there was ever a chance he would have.

*

Bonnie corners Elena on the last day of school while they're cleaning out their lockers. "What's going on with you and Ric?" she asks. The concerned look on her face makes Elena want to smash things.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Elena dumps a couple binders-worth of notes into the garbage. "And I'm still not speaking to you."

"Yeah, I know," Bonnie says. "Can we take a quick time out on the silent treatment? This is important." Elena doesn't answer. "Elena," Bonnie says urgently, her voice low. "You're _sleeping with him_?"

"I fell asleep _next to_ him," Elena corrects. "On the couch. While we were watching TV." She doesn't mention that it wasn't the first time. That makes it sound weird. It isn't weird. It's just- It's easier to fall asleep on the couch.

"Jeremy said you guys looked pretty cozy," Bonnie says doubtfully.

"Jeremy should mind his own business."

Bonnie chews on her lower lip, studying Elena with her head cocked. Elena does her best to look like she's not hiding anything. Which she isn't really because nothing has ever even happened between her and Ric that isn't completely G rated. She thinks about waking up with his body curled around her, his chest hot against her back, his hard-on snubbed up against her. About how sometimes if she wakes up before he does she lies still, just listening to him breathe, just feeling his hands on her skin. So, maybe PG at the very most. And even if there _were_ anything to say, there's no way she's going to say it to _Bonnie_. Especially while Bonnie is standing there trying to act all concerned parent like Elena's her kid to look after or something.

"I'm just worried about you," Bonnie says. Her voice breaks a little, and Elena is so mad all of a sudden because that _hurts_. It's not fair for her to make Elena want to hug her and hold on and maybe just cry for a minute, not when Bonnie knows where Stefan is, knows where Damon went, has known for weeks and weeks. Not when it would be so easy for her to give that to Elena and she still _won't_.

"I know you like to make all my decisions for me," Elena says bitterly. "But I didn't need you to protect me from finding Stefan. And I certainly don't need you to protect me from falling asleep in front of the television." She slams her empty locker shut. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to get back to ignoring you." She smiles brightly, falsely. "Have a great summer!"

She stops by Ric's classroom on her way out of the school, kind of to check if he'll be home for dinner, but kind of also because she's hoping Bonnie will hear about it.

*

"Not that I don't appreciate the help," Alaric says, shoving the last of the boxes on the dolly. "But it's the first day of summer vacation. You must have something better to do than stack books and pull down posters." He knows she hasn't been spending a lot of time with her friends lately, but half the kids in school are headed over to Tyler's later for some big "Yay, Freedom!" party that Caroline organized. Even if she's going through some stuff, surely she'd be happier there than packing up his classroom.

Elena pulls on her ponytail, tightening it. There's a little sweat shining in the hollow of her throat. "Nowhere I'd rather be," she says.

She helps him carry the last of the odds and ends to his car, stands with her hands on her hips while he shuts the trunk. "Want dinner?" he says. "It's the least I can do since I'm in no way planning on paying you for all your hard work."

He drives them to Sumner, a couple towns over, this pretty nice restaurant Jenna took him to once. It's maybe a little too nice considering they're dressed for moving boxes, it's maybe a little too romantic considering they're definitely not on a date, but he likes that no one here knows anything about them. He needs a break from the Grill.

The candlelight is pretty on her skin, soft and gold, throwing shadows against her throat, her mouth. He tries not to notice it too much. He tries not to notice how much she looks like Isobel when she gets that intent, concentrating look on her face, a little line sunk down between her dark eyebrows.

"Any big plans for the summer?" he says. Something deeply unhappy flickers over her face before she can hide it, something helpless and lost and angry. He recognizes it a little too well. He and Jenna had been talking about maybe renting a cabin this summer. Maybe heading over to the beach. It would have been nice. He turns his fork over and over in his hand. "Sorry," he says. "Stupid question."

He wonders if Elena's dreading all that endless free time stretching out with nothing to fill it as much as he is. He wonders how many days he'll last before he starts drinking again.

*

Jeremy's still at the party when they get back from the restaurant. Ric holds the front door open for her. He held the car door open for her too. His hand was light on the small of her back as she climbed inside. It was- Nice.

"Well," he says. "It's pretty late, I should probably…" He motions at the couch behind him, like he's really going to go to sleep. Like they don't both know he's going to wait up for her. The house seems very quiet, very dark.

"Yeah," she says. "I'm pretty beat." Like they don't both know that she's going to be right back down here after she stares at the ceiling in her room for a couple hours. Elena is really tired of pretending all of a sudden. They hesitate awkwardly by the stairs, the two of them standing around like they're on the doorstop after a first date. It's kind of ridiculous.

"Good night," he finally says. He presses his lips to her forehead absently. Her fist closes on a handful of his shirt, twisting. He freezes, pulling back. Looking at her with this stricken look on his face, like he'd just grabbed her boob or something, something that actually counted. His eyes flicker over her face, settle guiltily on her mouth. Her face goes hot.

"I'm not a kid," she whispers.

She curls a hand around the back of his neck, her head tilted. He doesn't lean in, but he doesn't lean back either. His mouth opens for her, just a little. He feels different from Stefan, his beard roughing against her chin. He stands stiffly, his body curving away from her. She kisses him harder, demanding. She clutches at his hair, tugs. She bites his lip.

He makes a harsh, breathless sound in the back of his throat. His hand spreads on the small of her back, his thumb strokes the hinge of her jaw. He leans into her with his whole body, his weight pressing her into the wall behind her while his lips catch against hers, his teeth, his tongue.

He kisses her back.

*

Jeremy could come in any minute. It's in the back of his mind like a drumbeat, loud enough to make him hurry, not loud enough to make him stop. Drowned out by the salt of her skin on his tongue, the slick heat of her on his fingers. Disappearing under the hard ache of his dick between his legs. The way her thigh trembles under his hand when he goes down on her, licks into her, his fingers working her until she shudders and shudders, coming.

She looks at him from under dark eyelashes, her cheeks flushed prettily, and this is the worst thing he's ever done probably. He tries not to notice how much she looks like her mother with her mouth panting open, her hands clutching at his shoulders.

She makes a little hitching noise in the back of her throat when he gets his dick inside her. He means to slow it down, but he needs- And that sweet slide into her feels so good, and God, he can't- He fucks her in needy jolts, feeling rushed and frantic, his hands hard on her hips. She gasps, her fingernails digging sharp into his chest, into his back. Her eyes are glazed, her back arching. He closes his eyes, too hot all over, too wound up. He tongues at the heavy swell of her breast, sucking on her nipple distractedly as he dicks into her deep, deep with his thumb on her clit.

She comes, her head thrown back, squeezing down on his dick in shaky pulses that make his eyes roll back a little. Christ. He grunts, fucking her through it, no rhythm to it anymore as he grits his teeth and comes helplessly into the condom.

He tells himself it's the last time.

*

When Elena wakes up Ric's fingers are gently carding through her hair. She keeps her eyes closed for a minute, just lying still while his bent knuckle traces up her arm, barely touching. She turns her head, and he abruptly pulls his hand back. He clears his throat. He looks sort of sick. She wonders if this is one of those things they're not going to talk about. She's kind of hoping it is. "Sorry," he says. "That was-" He pauses like he has no idea what would even cover it before he finally says, "A mistake." Great. So he's definitely going to talk about it then. He rushes on. "It was my fault, I never should have-"

She leans in to press her lips against his. Anyway, it shuts him up.

She touches the bruise on her hip in the shower, presses on it until it hurts. She slips a finger inside herself where she's hot and swollen, where she still feels a little sore. Thinks about how it felt to come on his cock until she's not thinking about anything else at all.

*

It's not the last time.

*

They're sitting at the kitchen table eating frozen waffles and drinking the last of the coffee. His shirt is on inside out, and she's pretty sure her hair could be registered as a disaster area. Jeremy won't be up for another couple hours so she has her feet in his lap under the table.

"Trade you," she says offering the Sports section for the Local.

"But I'm not done with it," he teases, flicking the whole section away from her when she makes a grab for it. "And," he looks at the headline of the section she's holding up, "I hate golf."

"There are other sports in here too," she says, wiggling the section tantalizingly. "Look, I'll throw in the crossword." He hands over the Local with overdone reluctance.

"Just to punish you, I'm going to read all these baseball stats out loud."

She laughs, flipping through the headlines on the way to the comics like she always does, looking for animal attacks, suspicious deaths. She stops on an article about a series of mysterious fires in Kentucky. It says the death toll has reached 17. She fights down a little flicker of hope. It could be nothing. It's probably nothing. But-

"Could you-" she blurts. "Do you think you could teach me to shoot a crossbow?"

*

Alaric glances at the paper, at the headline she's looking at. He frowns. He should probably say no. Knowing how to aim a crossbow or make a vervaine grenade isn't going to save her if she goes anywhere near Klaus. But then, _not_ knowing sure as hell isn't doing her any good. And she's looking at him with the closest thing he's seen to hope in her eyes since Stefan left.

"Sure," he says. "I can do that."

He's going to help her track down the vampire who'll take her away from him. It's an odd feeling of déjà vu. But the truth is, she's not like Isobel. She's never pretended to be in love with him.

*

"You didn't have to _dive_ out of the way though!"

"You didn't have to shoot a crossbow bolt directly at me!"

"It wasn't going to hit you," Elena argues, laughing. "I knew exactly where I was aiming!"

"For my head, apparently." Ric's arm is draped heavy around her waist, his voice muffled in the nape of her neck. His sweaty chest sticks a little to her back. Her whole body is pleasantly sore, her nose sunburned after they spent all day shooting trees and knocking rocks off fence posts and definitely not almost killing anyone by accident.

She snickers, peering over her shoulder at him. "The look on your face…" The TV's on but they're not watching it. It feels almost strange to be on the couch with him while it's still light out. It's almost stranger than the fact that she still has the taste of his dick in her mouth.

"I'm sure it was hilarious when I was almost _murdered_." He touches the band-aid wrapped around the first knuckle of her index finger. She stretches to grab her shirt off the floor. She's got it halfway on before his hand settles on the new bruise blooming along her ribs. She's not sure if she got that one in the woods. He cups his hand over it, strokes it lightly with his finger.

"You okay?" he says, meeting her eyes seriously.

She wrinkles up her nose at him, smiling. "I'm okay," she says. She even kind of means it.

end


End file.
